Hey all! Here is the next chapter for you! Thanks so much for all of the great reviews! You guys are awesome…and extremely articulate too! I love hearing from each and every one of you.
And of course a huge thanks to Terpsichore. She makes my job so much easier because she is a genius. Especially, since she has a new job now and still manages to squeeze my chapters in! So thanks to her!
Oh…and sorry to all of you who didn't get the chapter alert right away last week. There was something crazy going on then. Hopefully the alerts will work better this week. But anyway enjoy the chapter!
Chapter 59: Something in Common
Biting her lip in concentration, Meg stared up at the street sign before her, ignoring the flow of foot traffic making its way around her. With a sigh she pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from her bodice. Checking the hastily scrawled directions, she crossed the street and continued on her way towards one of the city's leading hospitals, where Conner had told her that Brielle was staying. Hurrying down the series of streets that were listed on the directions she felt a little breathless from the worry that had been plaguing her all week long.
Conner said that it wasn't anything serious, but then why would she need to go to the hospital? She didn't even seem sick before he took her there. I feel terrible for not noticing anything. Conner should have said something earlier. Although would I have listened? Half the things he says I don't believe. Lord, I am a terrible friend!
Frowning now, Meg looked down at the basket of cookies in her left hand, thinking what a poor gift they seemed now that she was practically at the hospital's door. I should have come to visit sooner…but I couldn't get Conner to tell me where she was. Shifting the basket nervously, Meg started up the gray stone steps toward the sober, aesthetically unpleasing building looming over her. Even before she reached to open the door, the sharp odor of antiseptic wafted to her with a gust of wind, barely masking the unmistakable stench of sickness. Raising a startled hand to her nose, she tried to breathe through her mouth but it seemed the very stone at her feet held the whispers of what lay inside.
God, I hate hospitals, and this one is actually one of the nicer ones in the city. Shaking her head, Meg squared her shoulders and opened the front door. Hurrying across the black and white checkered floor, she made her way to a large desk which she assumed was the place to go to ask for information. Standing before the neatly ordered workspace, Meg waited for the thin woman sitting on the other side of the desk to stop typing and notice her. When the woman made no move to look up, Meg politely cleared her throat, getting a sharp, irritated glare from the woman for her troubles.
"Can I help you?" the woman snapped, making it rather obvious that Meg's presence was an annoyance.
Frowning slightly at the terse tone, Meg smoothed a hand down her hip, feeling just a little bit out of her element in these full-length skirts and street shoes. "Yes, I am here to visit a friend."
"Yeah? Well, aren't they all? Does your friend have a name, mademoiselle, or do you want me to have to sit here and guess it for you?" the woman sniffed in reply, going back to her typing when Meg sputtered indignantly.
Raising her chin slightly, Meg dropped the material of her skirts and stood straighter. "Her name is Brielle Donner," she said as airily as she knew how. "And I would appreciate it greatly if you would tell me her room."
Sighing heavily, the thin woman spun in her chair and pulled open a file drawer at her back. "Let us see now…Davont…De Clerk…Dumont… There is no Donner here, you have the wrong hospital." Turning back to face Meg, the woman flashed a forced smile, her eyes critically moving over the blonde's simple green day dress. "Perhaps you should try Mercy two blocks over. They take more patients from…your part of town," she finished as she pulled the paper from the typewriter and set it aside.
Outraged by the obvious insult she heard in the secretary's words, Meg leaned forward and slapped her hand on top of the pile of blank typing paper before the woman could grab a new piece. "No, I was told she is at this hospital," she growled a little more fiercely than she had intended, shocked all the while at her forceful reaction. "I walked ten blocks to get here and when I get back I will have about six hours of ballet practice to look forward to. So you can understand if I am not in the mood to put up with your lip." Removing her hand from the desk Meg straightened, glad to see the woman staring up at her in open-mouthed shock.
Waiting a beat, Meg found it in her to paste a smile of her face. "Perhaps you could look under Donovan," Meg stated slowly, as if speaking to an unruly child.
Nodding faintly, the woman turned and began rummaging through the files once more. Looking over her shoulder, the woman could only shrug. "I am not seeing that name either. Those are both British names though…and we haven't had any foreigners in here all month."
Frowning at this unexpected bit of news, Meg took a step back. When I cornered Conner this morning I am sure he said that Brielle was here. I am sure of it because he even mentioned how far it was from the Opera house. But if she isn't here…then where the hell has she been all week! Nodding her head at the secretary, Meg turned and rushed back toward the front door. Dropping her basket of cookies in the lap of a rather pale looking woman in a wheelchair, Meg merely waved when the patient called a thanks.
Striding as quickly as was seemly, Meg began the long trek back to the theater. I cannot believe Conner got the hospital name wrong. I just cannot understand it…unless…unless he told me wrong on purpose. Fisting her hands at her sides at the thought, Meg picked up her pace even though she knew that she was sure to wear herself out before practice. God! What a jackass…leading me on some wild goose chase. And where in God's name is Bri! With each step she took, Meg's irritation quickly fanned into anger. She simply could not fathom a reason for Conner's deception, and though she didn't want to admit it, it hurt her to know that he didn't trust her with the secret he was keeping.
The time passed incredibly fast as Meg stalked down the cobbled side streets and wide thoroughfares, drawing several curious glances every time her thoughts tumbled audibly out of her mouth in a muttered grumble. She hardly even noticed the tired burning in her legs until she climbed the Opera's front stairs and threw open the front doors. Spotting some of the other ballerinas already in their practice uniforms Meg pulled one aside.
"Hey, do you know where Monsieur Sinclair is?"
Blinking at Meg's flushed face and agitated manner, the girl took a moment to find her voice. "Last time I saw him he was practicing pieces from the second act in his room. Well, heard really…I didn't actually see him…um…Meg, are you all right? You look positively livid."
Waving off the girl's curiosity, Meg merely swept passed her. "No, I am fine…or I will be anyway as soon as I tear some of that man's hide from his body."
Leaving the girl to gape after her, Meg picked up her skirts and hurried over the marble-lined floors of the front halls, the heels of her boots making a hollow clicking sound against the cool stone, quickly finding her way to the closeness of the backstage hallways. Narrowing her eyes when she passed through more shadowed areas, Meg was on the lookout for a very specific redhead in case he had chosen to come out of his room.
Not seeing Conner anywhere in the immediate stage area, Meg made a beeline for his room, her temper set on a fast boil by the time she stood outside his door. From within the room she could hear the flowing notes of violin music, a sure sign that her quarry was actually within. Trying to ignore the dreamy tingling she felt whenever she heard Conner playing, Meg pressed her mouth shut and threw open the closed door. Seeing Conner jump at her sudden entrance, Meg stood in the open doorway with both hands planted on her hips, girding herself for the battle to come.
Nearly dropping his bow when Meg threw the door open, Conner's music came to a screeching halt. Staring up at her with shocked, uncertain eyes as green as new leaves, he visibly gulped. "I didn't know you would be coming…er…Is there something the matter, Meg?" he finally asked, when it appeared that Meg was too busy fuming to say anything.
Stabbing a finger at Conner from her spot in the doorway, Meg silenced anything else the redhead would have said. "Is something the matter?" she repeated slowly, thinking about the two hours she had just wasted wandering around Paris.
Sensing that he was very near a tongue lashing, Conner hastily jumped to his feet, setting his violin aside on a nearby table. "Um, Meg…"
Coming a few steps into the room, Meg felt burning color climbing to her cheeks. "I would like you to know that I went to visit Brielle today," Meg stated as she crossed her arms over her chest, watching carefully as Conner openly winced at her words.
"Blast it all, Meg, you weren't supposed to go anytime soon. That hospital is ten blocks away from here. What addle-brained fool gave you a ride there?"
"No one gave me a ride, Monsieur Sinclair. I walked there."
Staring at Meg a moment in disbelief, Conner let out a heavy sigh. Turning from her, he raised a hand to his head, pulling several locks of bright red hair from the ribbon at the base of his neck. "God damn…maybe I should have said Saint Mary's instead. At least that one is in a rougher part of town."
Tilting her head to one side, Meg advanced further into the room. "What did you say!"
Spinning back around to face her again, Conner flashed an award-winning smile. "Oh nothing."
"Stop playing games with me, Monsieur Sinclair."
"Come now, I thought we agreed it is Conner from now on."
Ignoring the interruption, Meg barreled on. "I went to the hospital you said Brielle was staying in, but strangely enough they had no records of her ever staying there. Tell me where she is. And I want to know why you felt the need to lie to me as well."
His smile quickly fading, Conner took a step back, his eyes dropping to the floor as he obviously struggled to think of something to tell her. "Well, you see…"
Studying Conner's expression, it took her only moments to pinpoint the little crease in his forehead that always appeared when he was lying. Furious at his continued attempt at deceit, Meg felt her hands fist at her sides. Even now he is still trying to lie. The arrogant idiot. Turning, she slammed the door shut, cutting through the new lie that was falling from Conner's mouth. "Rethink that explanation, Monsieur Sinclair, until it is the truth."
Raising his hands in defeat, the redhead attempted to calm her with a soothing gesture, but Meg merely glared at him until he stilled. Dropping his arms back to his sides, Conner moved to a chair and sat down heavily. "All right, all right. I will tell you the truth. I probably should have told you to begin with, but this whole situation is complicated beyond all comprehension."
Remaining standing Meg merely nodded her head stiffly, too angry still to relax her battle stance. Watching her warily for a moment longer, Conner ran a finger absently over the nearby tabletop. "Bri hasn't been sick all this time and she hasn't set foot in a hospital."
"Then why in the world did you say that? And where is she?"
"Ach, lass, I don't know what compelled me to tell you that. It just seemed easier at the time to tell everyone the same story. I tend to be better at bending the truth rather than out-and-out lying. Never can keep track of all the little details that makes or breaks an untruth." Pausing there for a moment, Conner flashed a forced smile, looking more uncomfortable under her silent gaze with every passing moment. "I suppose I panicked when I fed you the story as well. It was a stupid thing to do."
Seeing how agitated that he was becoming, Meg finally took pity on him and moved to sit in one of the remaining chairs, though she was careful to keep her face impassive. It just wouldn't do for the blasted man to realize how hard it was for her to remain fuming when he sulked like a puppy. I wish he would cut his hair shorter. It is far too hard to concentrate when it starts coming out of its ribbon like that. Shaking free of her wandering thoughts, Meg let out a pent-up breath. "Where has Brielle been all this time, Conner?"
Tightening his mouth ever so slightly, Conner stared down at the table in deep contemplation. Watching him intently, Meg could practically see the wheels of thought turning within his head. He was obviously more worried about this question than the others, a fact which was more than just a little confounding. God, is it impossible for him to just be candid for one moment in his life without thinking about it ahead of time.
"Though I do want to be honest with you, Meg, I am not sure if that is mine to tell," he said with a certainty that was lacking a moment ago.
Stunned by this turn of events, Meg could only look across the table at Conner for a moment. "What are you talking about?"
"Well, Brielle sort of accidentally ran off with someone."
This was not what Meg had expected to hear. "Huh?"
"Well, it wasn't exactly planned or anything. Actually there was a sort of accident that had her laid up for awhile. I believe she is better now, but she has been staying with…er…a friend."
The remaining edges of her anger faded, washed away on the waves of astonishment that rose up within her. "Bri has a lover!" she burst out, girlish excitement making her clasp her hands before her on the table, her weakness for romance and love affairs blatantly showing.
Making an odd sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a grunt, Conner frowned. "Yeah, hopefully by now she does," he mumbled beneath his breath.
Feeling slightly guilty now for her earlier displays of temper, Meg slouched down slightly in her chair. Oh my God, no wonder for all of the secrets. Not everyone wants to have their personal business gossiped around the theater. And poor Bri…she had to have a good excuse to get away from Carlotta. And it sounds like it was sort of unplanned. Though I do wish Conner had trusted me enough to just tell me. Fiddling slightly with the trim running around the waist of her dress, Meg couldn't help but feel the hurt of not being included in Conner's circle of information.
"You should have told me instead of feeding me the bit about her being halfway across the city. I just got done wasting half my morning," Meg admonished with a frown, hoping all the while that Conner wouldn't notice the slight tremor in her voice. "I would have thought I could be trusted by now."
Reaching across the table, Conner caught up Meg's hands before she could pull them away. "I do trust you, lass," he said firmly, his ginger-colored brows drawing downward into a stern line as he cupped her smalls fists in his hands. "I do trust you. And I am sure Bri trusts you too."
"Well, you certainly have a funny way of showing it, Monsieur Sinclair."
"Lord a' mighty, it is Conner, lass."
"Monsieur, is it just some odd Irish custom then?"
"It's Conner."
Ignoring his interruptions, and finding a strange sense of satisfaction in annoying him, Meg merely continued on as if he hadn't spoken. "Or are you an exceptionally ill-mannered cad, monsieur?"
Huffing in response to her rather pointed barbs, Conner grew slightly red in the face and his eyes took on the gleam of broken soda bottles. Leaning forward across the small round table without tearing his eyes from her face, he forced her into silence with the closeness of his presence. "I cannot be having you calling me Monsieur Sinclair all the time," he practically growled.
Her eyes went large and round as she sat back in her chair, trying desperately to get further away from his sudden advance. Feeling slightly off balance at this unexpected change in the air, Meg found it difficult to form words. "Oh? And why not?"
One corner of his mouth curled up ever so slightly into a rakish smile as he raised one hand up to twirl gently in a loose lock of hair near her temple. "Because I have been trying my damnedest to court you properly before I burst out saying how madly I have fallen in love with you. How you struck me to the bone the very first moment I saw you." His brow wrinkled slightly as the fingers weaving through her hair fell to caress her flushed face. "And I should think it rather odd for a lady to be calling her admirer monsieur."
A heavy silence filled the room after Conner's proclamation, leaving Meg feeling befuddled. Love…he just said that he loved me… Her mind was an absolute blank as she stared open-mouthed up into Conner's face; she was so close that for a moment she imagined she could count every single freckle upon his boyish face. What would that be like? Knowing something like that…a person could spend a lifetime. Raising a shaky hand to the one upon her cheek, she tilted her head slightly into his touch, melting inside with every passing second that his impossibly green eyes moved over her features.
"Ah…I see," she murmured stupidly, too enthralled to think of any of her normally clever retorts.
Narrowing his eyes ever so slightly, Conner cocked his head to one side, bringing his face closer to hers. He paused inches away from her, close enough for his every breath to wash over her face. Her heart skipped a beat in her chest as she waited for him to close that short distance, secretly willed him to close that distance. As if reading her mind, Conner's eyes heated to a burning forest green and lowered to outline her lips with his gaze.
Just when Meg felt as if she were on the verge of exploding with anticipation, Conner smiled slightly and pulled back. Straightening his jacket, the redhead turned and strolled casually around the table. Deflating quickly from the euphoric tension that had been thrumming through her body, Meg slumped back against her chair. Raising a hand to fan desperately at the flush burning in her face, Meg wondered at her own reaction to this impossibly annoying man. God, how does he do that? Just by looking at me he can reduce me to a puddle.
Sitting up straighter after a great amount of effort, Meg cleared her throat. "And what makes you think I believe or care about anything you just said. I know how accomplished you are with women," she sputtered, forcibly trying to forget the very words she had waited her whole life to hear.
Turning toward her then, with a bright grin sliding across his face, Conner gave her a wink. "Ach, now lass, who is the liar now? You care very much. A woman does not have a need to be fanning herself so if she doesn't give a fig about a man. And even if you do not believe me now I mean to make you believe very, very soon." Laughing at her outraged expression, Conner carefully picked up his violin and placed it in its case.
Striding toward the door, he grabbed hold of her hand as he went by, pulling her along with him out into the hall before she could protest. "Come on, I want to show you something."
"What! No, I am not going to go anywhere with you. Are you crazy!" Meg exclaimed, even though she found herself following along after him without much of a struggle. "I have practice in two hours."
"Don't worry, lass, we aren't going to be leaving the building," Conner replied easily as he led her down the hall and into the maze work of backstage passageways.
Moving in silence, Meg stared down at their clasped hands with wary interest. I cannot believe him. He is the most annoying man I have ever met…but…why am I following him…why did I want him to kiss me just then? God, I am losing my mind! They maneuvered their way around the stored set pieces, some draped with old sheets, and passed by a group of chorus members who were being fitted for their costumes. Giving Meg's hand a friendly squeeze, Conner started up several staircases. Only then did Meg think to even ask where they were going. "Conner, really, if this ends up being some sort of waste of time…"
Stopping at her words, Conner looked over his shoulder and raised one eyebrow at her. "So it is Conner again, is it?"
Slapping lightly at his shoulder with her free hand, Meg shook her head until several curls fell from their pins. "Oh, forget about that! Now are you going to tell me where we are going or not!"
Raising their clasped hands up to his lips, he traced a warm kiss over her knuckles before releasing his hold on her. "Don't worry about it. We are here."
At the touch of his lips to her skin, goose bumps erupted all over her arms. Raising her hands to rub them away, Meg looked about their surroundings with an unconvinced eye. They now stood in what served as a storage area for the Opera residents' odds and ends. Surrounded by piles of mismatched trunks and pieces of unused furniture Meg turned to glare in Conner's direction as he dragged a large trunk out of the mess.
Huffing, she waved a hand in front of her nose, coughing when motes of dust rose up into the air from Conner's disturbance. "Who does that belong to?" she asked from behind one hand.
Dragging the brass trimmed trunk closer to where she stood, the redhead wrinkled his nose at her. "It is mine, of course."
"Why do you keep it up here, then?"
Flipping open the two locks, Conner tossed the lid back, gesturing for her to come closer. "It is too big to be keeping in my room all the time. And these aren't things that I need on a daily basis. So I keep it up here."
Despite her reservations, Meg found herself actually becoming curious as to what he was up to. Moving forward she came to stand directly behind him, looking over his shoulder though she refused to sit next to him on the hardwood floor. "Well, what is in there, then."
Shrugging nonchalantly, he pulled out a long length of red silk dotted with gold stars, holding it out in front of him he slowly turned his head to grin up at her. "Oh, just this and that."
Charmed by the delicate material, Meg sank down to the floor next to him, reaching out to run her fingers over the shimmering cloth. "Oh my, how lovely. I have never seen anything like this before."
"This is the traditional garb of the ladies in India. They wrap it around and around them till it looks like a dress," he replied easily, handing the sari to her before rummaging about in the trunk some more.
"You have been to India!"
Pausing in his search the redhead nodded as if it was the most normal thing in the world to have visited such a far-off country. "Oh yes, when I was younger we lived there with our father for several years."
A burst of excitement bubbled up within Meg then, leaving her completely breathless. All her life she had dreamed of traveling to exotic places, but had never had the opportunity to do so. She had long ago accepted that she would never go to the places she had read about in books. Only those who shine in a crowd, like prima ballerinas, ever got to leave behind their place of birth and see the world, and Meg knew that she wasn't the type to ever make it so far. She was the type that faded into the background. It was enough to just hear stories from others of their travels.
"Ohhh…what was it like? I have read so many stories about India. Do they really have wild tigers there? And do they really speak over one hundred different languages?"
"Yes, and yes. Actually at night sometimes the tigers would come into the villages to steal chickens. If you listened you could hear them pass by. I have never heard another sound since quite like it."
Gasping in delight at the shiver that raced up her spine, Meg unconsciously scooted closer to Conner, laying the sari in her lap as she peered into the trunk with open curiosity. "Weren't you scared?"
"Sometimes…but usually they passed on through with no problems. Strange as it sounds I got used to them."
Clasping her hands together in her lap, Meg beamed at Conner, all her irritation and anger with him pushed aside by this new discovery. It appeared they did have something in common after all, something to talk about without fighting. It was enough that she could forgive him the lie he told her about Brielle in the hospital.
"Tell me more!"
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Holding Brielle's hand firmly in his, Erik moved through the inky blackness of the underground cellars. He kept the pace slow to accommodate for her unfamiliarity with the passages and because he was very reluctant to return her to the world above. With each step he took he felt as if he was that much closer to breaking through the delicate dream he had lived within the last few days. It tore at his heart, the fear that he would loose the bliss of Brielle's presence.
These were the times that brought the Phantom within him dangerously close to the surface again. The temptation to simply throw Brielle over his shoulder and disappear with her back down into the echoing depths of his underground prison became almost tangibly strong. Yet, he fought those temptations and he did not turn back. She had asked him to take her back and he would. He had lived in a dream world before with Christine and he knew he could not bear to do so again. Perhaps, just this once, reality might prove to be more rewarding than pretence.
Ha! That may be the case, but even if she doesn't mysteriously come to her senses and run off screaming there are other things to consider. Though she hadn't meant to, Brielle had given him the first little push toward that reality when she had shied away from his childish plans. Thinking about it now, he wondered how he could have ever suggested that she and Aria give up the comfort of the sun and live in the tomblike cavern of his home.
How idiotic…of course she would refuse. She deserves better…she deserves a life…not the half life of living far below the feet and notice of others. Could I give her that life? Even with the money I saved from my salary would not be enough. Do I have the skills to navigate this world as a man and not a ghost?
He felt Brielle squeeze his hand gently just then. The slight affectionate display eased the panic that was choking the air from his lungs. Letting out a shaky breath, he felt a nervous smile pull at the corners of his mouth. She always seemed to know to the precise moment that he was on the verge of teetering backward into one of his black moods. Leave the worrying for later when she doesn't have to share it.
"Aria is going to be so glad to see us again, I think," Brielle offered into the darkness. "I noticed that you hardly went upstairs at all while you were taking care of me. So the poor thing has gone without either of us for quite a while."
Glad for something else to think on besides his own endlessly spiraling thoughts, Erik jumped to answer. "Yes, I dare say that is true. A child should not be separated from her mother."
"Or from you," Brielle interjected. "I swear she guards that music box you gave her as if it were a holy relic."
Despite himself Erik found a light chuckle working up the back of his throat. Drawing her closer to his side, he released her hand only to slide his arm about her waist. "What delightful images you always manage to paint."
"It is true! You have such a way with children. You are a wonder among men."
Blushing at her words, Erik ducked his head slightly. "Such things you say. I had hardly ever even dealt with children until I met Aria. Surely you exaggerate."
Pinching his arm lightly Brielle laid her head against his shoulder. "Do you ever think about having children of your own?" she sighed. Then seeming to realize what she had asked, she sucked in a deep breath. "Blast, I didn't mean to say that out loud."
"It is all right," he murmured, turning his head slightly to brush his lips against her soft hair. "I don't mind you asking. I used to think about what it would be like to start a family but I stopped wondering after a while."
"Why?"
"At some point it just became too painful to think about something I assumed would never happen. That and there is the added fear that I would pass my deformity on to any child that I might sire. I refuse to condemn another innocent to that fate." Stopping there, a spark of realization blazed through his mind, whipping out everything else with the power of one singular thought. "My God…Brielle I just realized that we…I mean…you don't think that you could be…"
Brielle's clear bell-like laughter rang out as she patted him on the chest. "So you just now realized something important, did you? No, I won't be a having your babe anytime soon."
"How do you know!"
"I could explain it to you medically if you like, but I dare say you really wouldn't want to know the details. Of course, such things are not one hundred percent certain…but, that said, I don't think you have anything to fear." Raising her head from his shoulder he could feel her turn to look up at him. "But you cannot know for certain that you would pass anything unwanted onto a child, Erik."
"I could not know that I wouldn't pass something on either."
"Yes, and if the babe came out looking like Death himself he still would not live as you had to. I would love him just as I love you…and certainly that would make all the difference in the world."
Pressing his mouth into a thoughtful line, Erik stared off straight ahead. She just implied that she wouldn't mind carrying a child of mine. It wasn't my imagination…I heard her clear as day. Feeling dizzy, the masked man gloried in a moment of breathless delight. A baby…my baby…God what a thought. Grinning like an idiot, the darker aspects of their uncertain future dropped away and he was left trying to imagine what it would be like to be a father with Brielle. The happiness he felt then was so sharp as to be akin to a physical pain but he wished for it to never stop.
Moving along quicker now, his feet hardly even touching the ground, Erik found his way to the back of mirror that led to Brielle's room. Able to see her face now in the dim light coming from the room beyond, he reached out to trace a finger along her cheek, needing very much to touch her in that moment. "I am sure you would."
Reaching out to press the mechanism that would open the mirror, Erik stepped through the newly opened space then turned and helped Brielle through. Smiling at her as she stepped to the carpeted floor next to him, the masked man moved to close the mirror behind her when he caught a slight movement out of the corner of his eye. Reacting with predatory grace, Erik pushed Brielle behind him and turned to face the intruder, all within the span of a half second. Ready and deadly calm to face whatever danger there may be he slipped a small dagger from his sleeve and into his palm.
A chair in the corner creaked as Christine De Chagny quickly climbed to her feet. The vicomtesse raised her chin slightly at the sight of Brielle peeking out from behind Erik's body, her dark eyes shooting her a weighted look. "I knew it. I knew it had to be her!"